when you were young and expected the world
by TheVerbalThing ComesAndGoes
Summary: Suddenly, "I love you" wasn't enough to assuage her fears and doubts about their future, and it definitely wasn't enough to stop her from thinking about the very real possibility that they'd made a mistake. Finn/Rachel; Puck/Quinn with shades of Puck/Rachel and Finn/Quinn. AU


when you were young and expected the world

Summary: Suddenly, _"I love you" _wasn't enough to assuage her fears and doubts, to stop herself from thinking or wondering about the very real possibility that maybe they'd made a mistake. Finn and Rachel get married young; Quinn and Puck keep Beth. AU, 'what-if' of sorts.

disclaimer: own nothing.

**a/n**: this should total to about three chapters (maybe four). i thought about making it a one-shot, but it felt too...crowded.

* * *

...

_Failure, he said,  
__times two breeds contempt. _

_Wash your hands of it forever._

...

She isn't supposed to be here.

'Here' is still in Lima, the small town that has always suffocated and stifled her; 'here' is the shoebox apartment that's a hop, skip, a jump and around the corner from McKinley High; 'here' is treading water within a stalled and restless marriage that is everything she never thought pledging commitment and promising forever to her high school sweetheart would ever amount to. 'Here' is living 534.8 miles from New York, from the stage, and from her dream of Broadway.

_She isn't supposed to be here_.

This is the mantra running on an endless loop in the back of Rachel's mind, seeming to increase in volume with every passing day, no matter what she's doing, throughout the day: grocery shopping, taking a shower, running lines for her role in the latest production at the Lima Community theater - most of which have been neither challenging nor exhilarating_. _

She remembers the day that Finn proposed to her with an odd, confusing mixture of fondness and guilt. They were in McKinley's auditorium, the place where they had their first date - while he was still technically dating someone else and she was still just that weird girl with a great voice who he wasn't entirely sure how to handle - and there are times when she wonders if maybe that should have been a warning. (Technically, he wasn't hers then, and he still wasn't hers for a long time after; back then it had always seemed like the harder she fought for him - or for anything, really - the further away she was from getting what she wanted.)

Finn's proposal came in the midst of panic and fear and uncertainty; they were both hurtling towards an unknown future they felt they would never be prepared for, while stubbornly and fruitlessly clinging to each other, using their inability to let go as an excuse for some unbreakable bond.

It was the pain of bruised ribs and a torn ACL and the reality of shattered dreams that prompted Finn to buy the ring, made him want to be certain that he had something to hold onto that could never leave, something that meant he mattered. She remembers the way he'd leaned forward awkwardly on crutches not quite meant for his height, an expression in his eyes that screamed everything - his life, his heart, his future - was dependent on her answer - the right one - and it was the kind of power that thrilled and terrified her so much Rachel was convinced that that had to be a good thing_._

It was the fear of possibly having a pile of rejection letters and dashed hopes and the loneliness she'd thought had been left behind that spurred her to say yes.

(While Finn's scholarship opportunities disappeared with a body blow and bad fall on the field, hers were resurrected with a move from _'wait-listed'_ to _'accepted'_. But her desperation only increased and she only pulled him tighter - because she couldn't just _leave _him, not when she put herself through so much and fought so hard to keep him. "I'll wait for you. I can defer," she said. _Maybe __I jumped too soon, _she thought.)

It was Rachel's naive belief that all they needed was each other to get through it. Being together was enough, she thought. It had to be.

It was her steadfast faith in the cliched phrase of _"Love conquers al__l" _that pushed her to the courthouse, wearing a white summer dress hastily bought from Forever 21, as she smiled brightly at a ring that wiped out half of Finn's savings and wasn't quite the right size. "It's romantic," she assured him. And she reminded herself that she loved him and he loved her and that was all that mattered - even if Kurt was the only one willing to serve as a witness to their union; even if they wouldn't be able to go to New York for another six months and neither of their parents approved of their decision to get married before they even received their diplomas. Love was all that mattered.

Until six months turned into a year and then two and then, suddenly, in the middle of the produce section, Rachel is struck by the realization that maybe _"I love you" _wasn't enough to assuage her fears and doubts, to stop her from thinking or wondering about the very real possibility that maybe they made a mistake.

She doesn't know when it happened - when life in Lima stopped being about them simply biding time, a brief chapter of their lives they would talk about with fondness while unpacking boxes in their apartment in the city as they argued over where to put the lamp. She doesn't know when she became so anxious, waiting to move forward and get out of this town and start their real lives, their real future. She doesn't know the exact moment when her tone turned from enthusiastic to desperate and hopeless whenever she asked about his college applications and his response was predictably vague and evasive. She doesn't know when it changed from her loving him wholly and absolutely, to resenting him quietly at night when she's laying awake next to him in their cramped twin-sized bed, in those moments where the reality of everything seems to hit her at once.

She doesn't know when she started seriously wondering if that panic that takes hold of her without warning is all in her head - a manifestation of her need for drama and excitement in a life that's become static - or if it's a sign of something greater, something scarier, that won't go away in the light of the morning.

She doesn't _know_ and that's the frightening part; she's shaken and she's lost and she can't help but feel like she's drowning while he stands by, adorably oblivious.

And she can't even remember the moment when this started. (She thinks that, maybe, if she can figure that out, pinpoint the moment when it all began to unravel, then she could resolve it, in some way.)

Finn is no closer to figuring out what he wants or is meant to do with his life and she is no closer to that stage in New York. And it seems, it _feels_, like they have just accepted this - Lima and this town and the predictable, mundane day-to-day - as their life, their future.

Finn gets comfortable and she gets... defeated.

And she doesn't know if she can fix it.

* * *

Finn looks at the clock hanging on the wall of Burt's tire shop and lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. There is a needling sense of dread burrowed somewhere in the pit of his stomach that, lately, seems to be ever-present, no matter what he does or where he is, a foreshadowing of things to come.

The clock reads ten to one, which gives him about ten more minutes left of his lunch break. He taps his wrist once, twice, before heading out back for a quick smoke. It's a habit he's picked up ever since he completed the physio for his leg, though he doesn't do it that often, maybe a handful of times a week - although it's been often enough to bother Rachel.

("It's terrible for your vocal chords, Finn," she'd admonish him with a frown.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to need them to go pro or anything," he'd say, lightly, and he would laugh but she'd frown and accuse him of never taking her seriously and then they would fight. Again.)

At the end of his shift, he makes sure to spray his mouth with breath spray and drives home with the windows rolled down. It's a method that's worked before and he is praying that it will work again.

Finn hesitates outside the apartment door, uncertain about what he's going to enter into. This...marriage thing is nothing at all like he thought it would be. He thought it'd be easier, somehow; he knows that he and Rachel love each other and that's what is needed to make marriages work, right? The only times he's heard of other couples divorcing, the reasons behind it has always seemed to be "We never really loved each other". And to him, Rachel choosing not to go to NY after his own plans at university fell through was proof enough of how much they mean to each other.

Lately, however, there's been something...off and different, enough for him to notice but not specific enough for him to be able to pinpoint the reason. He just knows what he feels. And whatever it is, it's enough to make Finn circle the block a few times before coming home, it's enough for him to sleep uneasily every night, enough for him to wonder, despite Rachel's constant presence and his arm wrapped around her waist with her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck, whether this - _he_ - will ever be enough for her.

He closes the door to their apartment and steps into the living room, casually tossing his keys on the coffee table before remembering the many many times in the past that Rachel has reminded him about the "designated key bowl" and its purpose. He pauses just as he's leaning over to place the keys there instead, as a large stack of newspaper listings catches his eye. A tingle of uneasiness crawls down his spine once he registers that they're all located in New York. "Rachel?"

"Dinner's almost ready," she calls from the kitchen. "I may have gotten a bit distracted so it's just a little burnt on top but..." Her voice trails off once she steps out into the living room and the smile falls from her face once she seems to catch the expression on his.

"What is this?"

"I-I was hoping that we could talk about this over dinner..."

"Rachel. What is this?" he repeats.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes wide and pleading. "It's... what I've always talked about, Finn. What _we've _always talked about. Me and you and New York. It's time for us to start making that happen; I mean, you said you just needed time to figure things out because of your knee and the scholarships falling through but it's been long enough, don't you think? I mean, our dream has always been about getting to New York and performing-"

"No, _your_ dream," he corrects her quietly but firmly. "I've never really wanted New York. At least, not like you. And I thought that it didn't have to be Broadway anymore, that you - that after everything happened with my leg and us finally getting married that it didn't matter where you performed as long as you got to perform-"

"Of course it _matters, _Finn! Performing two-bit parts at the Lima, Ohio community theater for the rest of my life is not what I've wanted to do. It never will be," she replies with an exasperation full of a strength he never could have anticipated.

"I don't—I don't understand. I _like_ living here, Rach, I mean we're happy here. It's not New York but I've never seen that as a bad thing...I'm working at the shop and about to be promoted; you're doing your plays and everything at the local theater and every Sunday, we have dinner with my mom and Burt and - and it's a good life, Rachel." He takes her hands in his, but finds himself looking at the top of her head. Suddenly he feels like he's pleading with her, trying to convince her of something that will never be true. At least not for her.

She squeezes his hand but lets go quickly, swiping at her eyes before finally looking up and meeting his gaze. She presses her hand to her forehead, eyes closed briefly, and in that moment, Finn finds himself completely terrified by what she is going to say next. "It is a good life, Finn... but I just don't feel like it's good for me."

"Rachel-"

"I _hate_ it here_,_" she insists vehemently so much so that Finn finds himself taking a step back from the sheer force behind her voice.

And he has to wonder how the hell he missed this.

...


End file.
